


Troubled Destiny

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:42:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It can be hard to handle the painful things that pop up in life, and<br/>even harder when you carry pain around inside you every day.<br/>This story is a sequel to Joyful Destiny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Troubled Destiny

## Troubled Destiny

JC

* * *

"You're breaking up."  Alec Grayson's voice conveyed his disbelief, as if to say, 'Yeah, right'.  "You.  And Jim.  You and Jim.  Are splitting up."  His green eyes studied his friend's face, taking note of the drawn features and the tired eyes.  _Something_ was up.  Maybe they _were_ breaking up.  "But how can that be?  You've been together forever." 

"Only five years, Alec."  Five years that _felt_ like forever. 

"'Only five years, Alec.'  Like that's no big deal.  Besides it's been five years since the ceremony.  You were together for about five years before that." 

"We weren't _together_ together." 

Even as he said it, Blair Sandburg recognized the fallacy of that statement.  True, he hadn't been Jim's lover all of that time, but they had, on some level, definitely been together.  Connected.  No other person or situation had been able to break that.  And there had been times that they had been tested -- by criminals, by life, even by their love for each other.  He lifted sad, blue eyes and met Alec's gaze, catching the expression on his friend's face.  Alec knew.  He had tasted firsthand the strength of Jim and Blair's connection. 

"Besides, we're not splitting up.  Not exactly." 

"But you want to move out."  Alec had to fight not to raise his voice. 

"I don't _want_ to move out.  I'm not _really_ moving out.  I just... he just... we just..." 

Blair stopped, not sure what he wanted to say.  He was clinging desperately to the idea that he wasn't running away, that he wasn't abandoning Jim.  It had just gotten damn near impossible to ignore the pain.  Staying at the loft meant being in the place where that pain was a living, breathing, growing entity.  It meant sharing space with that pain, and facing the person that was causing it. 

Alec reached across the table, prying a napkin from Blair's fidgety fingers. 

"What's going on, Blair?  I didn't realize you guys were having _any_ problems, much less something this monumental.  Why didn't you talk to me?" 

"Nothing to say."  Blair's stomach flipped at the words underscoring his turmoil.  "According to Jim, nothing's wrong.  No problem, nothing to discuss, hence nothing to tell you about." 

"Yeah?  Well, if that's true, why are you thinking about leaving?  You know, you guys aren't just dating.  This is supposed to be the real thing.  What happened to sticking together, working shit out?" 

"I'm not trying to _leave_.  Shit, I'm thinking about passing on an expedition that I'm supposed to _lead_ this summer, because I don't want to leave him while things are like this.  Working it out would be great, but he's not talking to me.  The more I push, the further away he goes.  I'll tell you, Alec, I'm scared.  He acts like nothing's wrong, but everything is different.  He goes through his routine, but he's just going through the motions.  Something has made him close himself off, and I haven't got a clue.  I ask; he shrugs.  I beg, he says 'nothing to tell.'  I yell, he's silent.  It's worse than when I first started working with him, at least then his defenses had cracks.  It took time, but I was able to work my way inside.  He's never been able to totally shut me out before." 

The napkin at Blair's place had been turned into confetti, and Blair was starting in on the sugar packets from the caddy in the middle of the table.  His shoulders were slumped, and his voice was quiet and pained as he went on. 

"Things haven't been the same since I got back from seeing my mom over Spring Break.  I don't know where to look for answers, and I've looked everywhere.  He's been at the Cascade Youthful Pride Center full time for over a year, and I know he actually prefers it to working the cases he's still sometimes called in on for Major Crimes, but I went there, thinking that maybe it's someone he's been working with.  I've questioned practically everyone I know at the station, thinking that maybe it's a case, even though he hasn't been called in too often lately.  I talked to Stephen, thinking that maybe their dad was pushing some buttons.  But there's nothing.  Nothing that I can find anyway.  I've even stooped to a big invasion of his privacy -- snooping through his things." 

"But to move out..." Alec began. 

Blair took a deep breath, scattering pieces of his tortured napkin when he exhaled. 

"One night, I was so mad that I couldn't even go get in the bed with him, so I slept downstairs.  Now, I've been sleeping downstairs for weeks, and Jim's never even questioned it.  He hasn't asked me about it, hasn't asked me back up.  I keep waiting for him to say he's missed me, that he can't talk about it yet, that he doesn't know how to explain it.  Something.  _Anything_.  I can't go back there and lie in that little room at night as if everything's normal.  This is _not_ normal.  This is fucked." 

Alec was at a loss for words.  He never thought that he would see Jim and Blair's relationship in such a state.  Sure, he expected them to clash.  They were two strong men who were strong in different ways, but _this_... this was off the charts.  Stifling the anger he was starting to feel towards Jim for the pain that he was causing Blair, he tried to think of something he could do to help. 

"Do you want me to have Rad talk to him?" 

"I don't want to bring Conrad into this.  But if Jim happens to mention anything to _him_..." 

"Blair..." 

"I'm not asking you to break any confidences, he probably won't say anything anyway, but I'm desperate, man.  Just keep an ear out for me." 

"I'll always do whatever I can to help, you know that.  And you can stay at my place as long as you want.  I'm headed up to Rad's for the summer as soon as I finish grading finals.  I should be wrapped up by the weekend." 

"Thanks.  Thanks a lot.  You know, I never really said, straight out, how happy I am for the two of you, but I am.  The problem I had with...Conrad had nothing to do with how he is as a person.  He's really a great guy.  And you deserve a great guy." 

Alec smiled.  "Don't worry about it.  I understand the jealousy thing.  I'm just glad that we've all been able to get along."  He got up, grabbing his briefcase.  He pulled a key from his pocket and laid it on the table.  "I gotta go.  If you _really_ feel like you can't stay at the loft, come on over.  Conrad is already up at the cabin.  But be sure about this.  I want you to be happy, and I've learned that happiness for you means Jim Ellison.  Think about it." 

Blair took the key and dropped it in his bag as he watched his friend walk away. 

* * *

Jim, Blair, Conrad, Alec.  An unusual group of friends. 

Blair remembered being stunned when Alec told him that he was seeing Conrad James.  In fact, by the time Alec mentioned it, they had been seeing each other for months.  It had taken them almost three years of hit and miss to finally get it together and admit that they were in love, that it was more than friendship, more than sex.  'Must be something in the air here,' Blair thought wryly.  Conrad had worn Alec down on that score, desperate to prove to the younger man what he had been shocked by himself -- that he actually could love again.  Despite that, despite seriously wanting Alec in his life, Conrad hadn't actually been ready for the reality of it.  Twenty years without real love had taken its toll.  So, then it was Alec's turn to work and stick and not let go.  They'd spent the last eighteen months as a committed couple. 

And over the course of the past four years, the four men had formed sort of a friendship circle -- building solid connections from their entwined relationships as lovers, ex-lovers, friends, and colleagues. 

Blair wondered, not for the first time, how they had been able to maintain their friendship, especially with everything that had gone on between them... and all of the secrets.  Conrad and Alec, of course, didn't know about Jim's enhanced senses.  Alec didn't know the full story about Jim and Chase/Conrad.  How could he?  Alec didn't even know that _Chase_ existed.  Conrad still didn't know everything about Blair and Alec's relationship.  He knew that they had dated, but not about the twists and turns that involved Jim.  And Conrad had a whole past that couldn't be shared.  Things that Jim had hinted at to Blair, but never fully revealed.  Over the years, Blair figured he had heard all he wanted to about Jim's covert activities, and he was sure he didn't have any secrets of his own left.  Talking as much as he did to Jim, stuff had a way of working itself in, even if Jim didn't always pick up on the significance right away. 

And now, Jim had a secret from him.  Something that was eating at Jim, and eating away at them.  Their bond was so complex; Blair had always wondered what would happen if, for some reason, he couldn't be with Jim.  What would happen to all of those connections?  He had pretty much settled on the idea that they were just destined to be together on all levels.  That Sentinel/Guide led to partners, led to friends, led to lovers.  Now, it seemed he might have to rethink that philosophy.  It very well may be that he _would_ be connected to Jim for a lifetime, but maybe they _wouldn't_ always be a couple. 

* * *

Blair rose from the table, tossing down a tip before gathering up his things, deciding to head home to pack.  His heart was so heavy that it seemed to slow him down.  Still, he felt it was the only thing left for him to do. 

Back at the loft, he packed quickly, grabbing up his belongings, throwing things into his bag.  Jim wasn't home, and he wanted to get out while the getting was good.  Once there, surrounded by the walls that he considered home, he could feel himself begin to falter.  Despite everything, he didn't want to go.  He could actually _see_ himself staying, waiting for Jim, going up to bed, holding him, working to make him give in.  Settling in behind him, using his guide voice to give him a little advantage so that he could just talk him out of it.  Talk through the shrugs, the silences, the weak assertions that there was 'nothing' when they both knew that there was _something_. 

Heaving his bag over his shoulder, Blair forced himself not to linger and fled to his car.  As he drove to Alec's, he wondered if Jim would even notice that he was gone. 

* * *

The door to the loft opened to emptiness.  It was in the air, and Jim knew right away that Blair was gone.  Not just 'not home', but _gone_.  Traces of something sour mingled with Blair's scent and lingered heavily in the atmosphere.  He slammed the door and headed to the phone. 

* * *

When Blair arrived at Alec's townhouse, it was empty, except for C.C., Alec's temperamental feline, who had long since given up her show of nonchalance where Blair was concerned.  She immediately rubbed against his legs as he entered.  He didn't bother to unpack, instead settling in on the couch and going right to work on his latest batch of exams.  Glasses perched on his nose, hair tied in a tight ponytail, attention focused totally on the essay in front of him; he absently reached out to answer the phone when it rang. 

"Yeah, hello?" 

"When are you coming home?" 

Caught off guard, but even so, not really surprised, Blair quickly rebounded.  "Why?  You seem to want to be alone.  After all, you have been _sleeping_ alone for a while now." 

"You've been upset, and I didn't want to... fight, but you were _here_.  When are you coming home?" 

"That's not good enough, because to me it was like you _weren't_ there.  I can't come home... unless you're ready to talk.  And if you say 'there's nothing to talk about', I'm hanging up."  Blair recognized the restraint that kept Jim silent, and tried not to focus on the fact that they still weren't discussing 'it'.  After a minute, the dead air got to be too much for him.  "So, if you're done, I've got papers to grade." 

"What about the sensory tests?  We were finding out some useful things."  They had been doing studies -- cataloguing Jim's senses to see if they had changed over time, or were diminishing as he got older. 

"Jim, I can't do this right now.  If you want to _talk_ , you know where I am.  But that's it." 

"So, you're not coming home?" 

"Look, I understand this, I do.  I hate it, it hurts, but I sort of get it.  You have something going on, and you are trying to work through it.  You need time and space, and I know you don't mean to push me away.  But you _have_ pushed me away -- pushed me right outta there.  All you had to do was _say_ that yes there was something, but you weren't ready to discuss it.  That might not be much, but it's _way_ better than this idiotic denial that we both know is a lie.  A lie that I can't face everyday anymore.  I can't give you what you need if I'm there, and it's definitely not helping me." 

"If I say that I'm not ready to talk about it, but I want you home, you'll come back?" 

"You're not _listening_ , and you're still not _talking_.  I think I should stay here for a while." 

"Is Alec up at C.J.'s?" 

"Not yet.  He's going up in a couple of days." 

"Oh..."  Jim was suddenly quiet, but Blair knew what was on his mind. 

"Oh... nothing.  Don't even go there.  I love you, Jim, and I'm going to hang up before you say something we'll both regret." 

The call ended without another word. 

* * *

Blair tossed and turned, restlessly tangling himself in the sheet and blanket covering him, and grumbled silently as he flopped into yet another position.  'Come on, Sandburg.  What's another night in a bed alone?'  He looked at the clock, sighing at how many hours were left until morning. 

Maybe Jim had been right.  No matter what, there was something to be said for being home.  Even without Sentinel senses, there were certain sounds, certain smells that he associated with the loft... with Jim.  Things that were part of the woven tapestry that signified 'Home'.  He hadn't realized the amount of comfort that familiar background of sensory information had been providing him during the time spent in his old room. 

Rolling over, Blair buried his head under a too-plump pillow and tried to shut off his brain, resigning himself to a long night. 

* * *

Jim was used to the all-encompassing gloom.  He had been plunged into it every night for weeks.  It was always the same.  Darkness so black that even his enhanced sense of sight was useless.  So thick and heavy that it felt like a living thing... touching him with a million oozing fingers, assaulting him with its acrid odor which was sharp enough to leave a bitter taste in his mouth.  The familiar chorus of moans filled his ears, getting louder as it spread its song of pain and anger, hopelessness and helplessness. 

He braced himself; confident that although he couldn't yet beat it, hadn't yet found out a way to keep it from coming back; he would surely survive -- the same as he had every night.  Focusing everything he had, he reached out through his oppressive surroundings, trying to filter out the cries of despair, and find his lifeline.  The one thing that had anchored him -- the strong, steady beat that meant safety, and comfort, and joy. 

Instead, the voices around him only grew louder, and a wave of panic started to build inside him.  He focused even harder, and came up empty, sensing nothing beyond. 

_Nothing_. 

Slowly, the darkness took over, and he fought in vain to dial down the rising cacophony of noise that was exploding into ear-splitting screams, not realizing that one of them was his own, until he woke up drenched in sweat, throat raw, screeching tones still ringing in his ears. 

* * *

It hadn't been the most productive afternoon that Blair had ever spent.  In fact, if he were honest with himself, it hadn't been the most productive _week_ he had ever spent.  He took another sip of coffee, not getting his usual enjoyment from the strong flavor, but forcing himself to drink it anyway, promising that he would just sit for a few minutes longer, before getting back to packing up things in his office.  He was tired, and his fingers seemed chilled, but the time that he had spent sitting with a hot mug in his hands hadn't helped at all. 

"Dr. Sandburg?  Dr. _Sandburg_?" 

Jerking slightly, but still enough to spill coffee onto a stack of books that needed to be returned to the library, Blair turned towards the voice.  His eyes lit up when he recognized his visitor.  "Scott!  Hey, man.  How you been?"  He got up, wiping his hand on his jeans, and dabbing at the books with tissue from his desk.  "Come on in, and I keep telling you to call me Blair." 

A tall, thin young man moved into the room.  His blondish-brown hair was long in the front and fell into his face, partially obscuring his big, brown eyes.  He smiled slightly as Blair met him, giving him a brief hug. 

After moving some papers to clear a spot for Scott to sit, Blair perched on the edge of his desk.  "When did you get back?  What are you doing here at the University?" 

"I got back a couple of days ago.  I just dropped my sister off.  She's starting here in the fall, but she's enrolled in the summer pre-freshman program, and she wanted to get her books." 

"That's great.  I've worked with that program a few times." 

"Seems like I just caught you...  I took a chance that you might be around.  I'm looking for Jim.  He wasn't at the Center and there's no answer at the loft." 

Blair hesitated, not sure what to say, since he hadn't talked to Jim since that first day apart.  He settled for offering a partial truth.  "Uh... I'm not sure what his schedule is today." 

"But he's not sick or anything, is he?  They told me that he hadn't been at the Center all week." 

His stomach lurched, coffee churning uneasily, but Blair took in a deep breath, determined not to overreact.  "I'm sure he's fine.  He's probably...."  More deep breaths.  "We had an argument, I haven't seen him this week." 

"Shit.  I mean... shit." 

"Yeah, but I'm sure everything's okay.  Jim's had a lot on his mind, and he needed me to give him some time to work it out.  If you left a message, I know that he'll catch up with you.  So, enough about us...  What are your plans for the summer?  Tell me about Ace.  How is that going?  When are you going to bring him around, and let us meet him?" 

Blair stopped as he noticed the color draining from Scott's face. 

"What, man?  Did you guys break up or something?" 

"Blair, Ace is dead.  You didn't know?  Jim didn't tell you?" 

No, Jim hadn't told him.  But then again, Jim hadn't been telling him much of anything lately. 

Scott Parsons had been Jim's first charge in the Youthful Pride Center's mentoring program.  Fifteen and confused.  The time he spent with Jim had helped the teen a great deal.  Helped him grow into a young man more comfortable with his sexuality, and more confident in general.  He had just finished his second year at the University of Washington as a Psych major.  That's where he had met Ace.  They had been casual friends during their freshman year, but had started seeing each other seriously at the beginning of their sophomore year.  It was all Scott had talked about when Jim and Blair had seen him over the Christmas break. 

"Damn, I'm so sorry.  I don't know what to say.  I didn't know." 

Pain etched the young man's words.  "It was... awful.  It was in all the papers, on the news.  Don't you remember... Jason Statler?" 

Jason Statler.  Son of a prominent family.  Severely beaten, sexually assaulted and left to die in a park in Seattle.  Case still unsolved. 

Moving closer, Blair dropped down in front of the younger man.  "Oh man.  Yeah, I remember that.  I didn't make the connection.  I don't think you ever told us his whole name." 

"No, you're right.  I remember how surprised Jim was when I called him.  He drove up to see me in Seattle.  It was Spring Break....  I think you were out of town." 

Alarm bells were starting to go off in Blair's head, but he tried to focus on Scott.  "How have you been?  Really." 

Scott closed his eyes, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, his throat suddenly tight with sorrow.  "Okay, I guess.  He was my first... the only person that I'd ever...  They messed him up so bad, and he wasn't lucky enough to die right away.  And I just felt... I couldn't even get _mad_ about it.  I felt dead myself.  Inside.  We were supposed to go bum around somewhere over break... head for the beach, or something.  I came home to see my mom for the day, and he was going to meet me here in Cascade.  When he didn't show, I called his parents' house, and his sister told me..."  Scott found he couldn't stop the tears after all.  "I'm sorry..." 

"Hey, don't be sorry about loving someone and missing them and grieving for them.  Ever."  Blair rubbed slow circles on the young man's back, offering what little comfort he could.  "But you don't have to talk about it." 

"No, I just can't believe Jim never told you about it.  He was great to me.  I was a basket case.  Dealing with the cops, the funeral.  I was going to quit school... Jim was just there for me.  Like always." 

Blair was finding it hard to believe that Jim hadn't said anything as well, but he kept that to himself, reaching over to grab some tissues, handing them off to Scott.  Question after question filled his head, but they were questions for Jim, not a sad young man who was dealing with the pain of losing his first lover. 

"I'm sorry, Scott.  You know I wouldn't have brought it up..." 

"I'm fine... well, you know.  At least I'm going to try.  Jim told me something that really helped.  He told me his first boyfriend had been killed, too.  He wasn't just saying that, was he?" 

Forcing himself to speak, as lights started flashing behind his eyes, in perfect sync with the now blaring alarm bells, Blair answered, "No, it's true."  True enough, anyway. 

"He said that it hurt so much that he buried it deep inside him somewhere, so deep that he forgot about it for a long time.  But that meant that he also forgot the good times.  And it made it hard for him to love again, so that he almost missed his chance with you."  The tears were flowing freely again, dripping off of Scott's chin.  "I don't want to forget what I had with Ace, so I'm going to deal with his... death.  And one day, I want to have with someone what you and Jim have with each other." 

Blair pulled the thin body into his arms, swallowing around the lump in his throat.  Anger welled up inside him, hot and strong, at Jim for not talking _again_ , but he was grateful that Jim had found the strength to tell Scott things that he needed to hear. 

"You'll be fine, Scott.  I'm sorry that I never got a chance to meet Ace.  But you'll be fine."  When the young man had stopped trembling, Blair handed him more tissues, giving him time to compose himself. 

"Thanks for listening.  Sorry to dump all of that on you like that.  I better go round up Shelley.  You and Jim... you guys are going to be okay, right?  I... I don't know what's going on, but you have to work it out." 

"Don't worry about us.  I'll have Jim call you, okay?" 

Scott nodded, then headed out the door.  Before he closed it behind him, he said, "Bye Blair." 

"Take care, man." 

Less than two minutes later, Blair was leaving, too.  Headed for the loft. 

* * *

Blair let anger fuel him as he made his way home, foot heavy on the gas pedal.  Better to be pissed off, then give in to the rush of panic.  He fervently hoped that Jim was just holed up in the loft, because otherwise, panic would surely win out.  Frantic phone calls, made while trying to keep at least half his mind on the road, had gotten him nowhere.  Three calls to the loft that went unanswered.  Alice, at the Center, said that Jim had called in at the beginning of the week, citing 'family problems', but calls to both William and Stephen Ellison had been dead ends.  Simon hadn't heard from him, either.  The only person that had talked to him seemed to be Conrad.  The gist of that conversation had been that Jim had wanted Conrad to get Alec to tell Blair that he couldn't stay at the townhouse any longer, which Conrad had refused to do. 

With effort, Blair tried to focus his thoughts, putting the pieces together, and preparing for the battle to breach the Ellison defenses, understanding all too well how difficult that might be. 

The traumatic story of Jim's first lover had unfolded right in front of him.  Two young soldiers who found love, and forged a bond, despite having to hide how they felt, only to be separated, first by duty, then by death.  He knew how Jim had carried the pain of it inside him, locking it away like it had never happened, and never letting himself feel that close to anyone again, especially another man. 

Until Blair had come along. 

And Blair had been there to witness the return of all of those memories.  Listened in shock as Jim poured out the story in halting words, punctuated with tears.  It had been a turning point for both men, opening the door to a confession of the love that they had been harboring for each other, hiding from each other. 

He also remembered the shock of finding out that Jim's old lover wasn't dead at all.  Just the victim of a military cover-up -- having spent twenty years serving his country in ways that supposedly made Jim's Covert Ops days seem like vacation tours.  Chase Jones... now back in their lives as Conrad James.  It had been a tangled mess, but they had survived it... together.  Like they would again, if he could only get Jim to open up. 

Sighing, Blair reflected on how it had been his destiny to fall in love with a bull-headed, emotionally-repressed hard-ass who insisted on trying to absorb all of the blows that fell both on him and those around him, constantly forgetting that he wasn't alone. 

As distracted as he had been, Blair considered it a miracle that he made it back to the loft in one piece.  Screeching into his usual parking spot, right next to Jim's, which he noted was indeed occupied by Jim's latest truck, he held on to the fact that at least he had a place to start.  And that was more than he'd had when he'd packed his bags a week ago. 

Even so, dark swirls of anger and panic, threaded with uncertainty, collided with white hot flashes of the love and sympathy he felt, and coiled into a tight gray knot in the pit of his stomach.  He paused, trying his best to calm his inner turmoil.  Then, with renewed purpose, he went inside. 

* * *

Blair wasn't sure what he had expected to see, but it hadn't been Jim sitting calmly on the couch, and he was hit full force with how much he had missed the man.  He wanted to kiss him... right after he gave him hell. 

Jim was wearing a tank top, and sweatpants covered his long legs where they were stretched out in front of him, with his feet bare.  Sitting very still.  Not even looking up when Blair came close. 

Briefly, Blair flashed back to another time, years ago, when he had rushed home only to find Jim, sitting out on the balcony in much the same manner, deep in a zone.  The result of yet another emotional upheaval in the lives of Ellison and Sandburg.  A consequence that he hadn't even considered during the past week... 

"Jim?"  Blair had meant it to be soft, but he hadn't meant to sound so damned shaky. 

"Sandburg." 

Fighting back the urge to punch Jim in the nose, Blair snapped, "Damn!  Man, you scared the shit out of me!  What are you doing?  Don't you know how to answer the phone?  Check the machine?  What the hell have you been doing all week?  No one has seen or heard from you.  And you look like death warmed over." 

"I haven't slept much." 

Blair gave in to his own fatigue, sinking down onto the low table in front of the couch and facing Jim.  Emotionally and physically, his outburst seemed to have taken something out of him.  He was sure that neither one of them was operating on all cylinders, but too much time had already passed without everything out in the open. 

"Yeah, I know how that is.  Look, Jim.  _Jim_."  He slapped against the side of Jim's leg with the back of his hand.  "Look at me, man."  Blair was unprepared for the bloodshot, shadowed eyes that turned to him, but he pressed on.  "We are going to talk.  Right now.  You hear me?" 

Jim didn't answer, and every breath Blair took had to be forced past the tightness in his chest. 

"So, you're going to keep up this stubborn, silent shit?  Gonna keep shutting me out?  This is how you want things to be between us, or have you decided that there is no more us?" 

"No."  That was all that Jim offered, in a tone that matched his eyes. 

"Jim, I'm asking you... I'm begging you to please help me make this right." 

"Chief, there's nothing --" 

"Nothing what, Jim?  Nothing going on?  Nothing on your mind?  Nothing _wrong_?  That's bullshit and you know it."  Fists clenched against the urge to shake some sense into Jim.  "Fine.  You sit there.  _I'll_ talk.  I saw Scott today.  He wants you to call him." 

The muscle in Jim's' jaw was clenching like shocks of electricity were being applied to it.  But Blair ignored it. 

"He told me about Ace.  Jason Statler.  You know... his boyfriend who was _killed_.  He seemed surprised that you hadn't mentioned it to me.  I, on the other hand, was a little bit beyond surprised.  Want me to go on?" 

"Chief..." 

Blair waited, but Jim didn't say anymore.  "I know that you told him about Conrad.  That meant a lot to him.  He seems to be keeping himself together.  He's still grieving, but I think he's going to be okay.  Largely in part because of what you shared with him.  About Conrad...and about me." 

Jim was trembling and Blair couldn't fight the urge to touch him, calm him.  He moved to sit by Jim's side on the couch, rubbing his hand gently along a muscled thigh. 

"You were there for Scott.  Why won't you let me be there for you?  I know that it's painful, but I love you.  I'll always love you.  And I thought we had a rule: No secrets." 

Jim turned to him then, and Blair half-expected to see tears, but Jim's eyes were dry and bleak. 

"I know.  But this is my problem." 

"Jim, you're not Superman.  You don't have to take on the world by yourself.  You're mine, man.  We take on the world together.  If reliving the past fucked with your head, that's okay.  You can tell me about that.  I swear to you that I'm cool with how you felt about Conrad, and I know you still care about him.  I wouldn't hold that against you." 

Reaching out, Jim laid his hand on Blair's chest -- right over his heart.  Ever since the younger man had entered the apartment, Jim had been focusing on that welcome beat.  He let the pulse under his palm mesh with the rhythm he was hearing.  Filling his senses.  "I've missed you." 

"You too, man.  But --"  Blair caressed the back of Jim's hand, then held it in his own. 

"I know.  We're not done here.  You're right.  We should have talked about it.  And I meant to... I really did, but then things sort of got beyond me, until I just didn't want to think about it." 

"So, this was all about Conrad dying and coming back?  You thinking that I wouldn't want to hear about it?" 

"No.  I came to terms with that long ago.  And I was sure you had, too.  Otherwise, C.J. couldn't be a friend of ours... part of my life again.  I meant what I told Scott.  Dealing with it gave me back some wonderful memories, and gave me you." 

 "Yeah," Blair said, nodding, giving Jim's hand a quick squeeze.  "Yeah." 

"I haven't been sleeping well."  Jim's hand strayed back up to his lover's chest, again resting over the source of the calming beat.  Then, abruptly, he got up, moving to the balcony glass, staring out at the landscape as night began to fall.  "I've been having dreams. _A_ dream." 

Blair didn't move, eerily reminded of the time when Jim had stood in that exact same spot and told him about falling in love for the first time with another man.  All of a sudden, Blair wasn't sure he was ready to hear what he had been waiting to hear about for so long. 

"It's always the same.  And it's not really about anything.  Just... _darkness_." 

Instantly, Blair was by Jim's side, hand automatically going out to gently touch the small of Jim's back.  A familiar gesture from even before the time they were lovers, expressing support and comfort.  The thought flashed in Blair's mind that maybe the exchange of such gestures had always been a show of their commitment, even before they had acknowledged the true extent of their feelings for one another. 

Jim leaned into the touch of his lover's hand, increasing the contact, letting his thoughts take him back a few months.  Facing the darkness, he told the story hidden within its depths.... 

* * *

After pulling his truck into a parking spot, Jim got out and followed Scott's directions down to the southeastern edge of UW's campus, overlooking the bay.  He only saw a few students here and there, and immediately noticed the lone figure sitting on the grass facing the water, looking lost in a big jacket and baggy jeans. 

Scott didn't look up as Jim approached, but he acknowledged Jim's presence once the cop sat down next to him.  "Hey." 

"Hey.  You okay?" 

"Not really." 

"Stupid question, huh?" 

"No.  Normal question." 

Jim put his arm around Scott's shoulders, squeezing briefly. 

"I'm sorry, kid.  About what you're going through.  And about what happened to Ace." 

"Thanks for coming.  You didn't have to do that, but is it okay if I don't talk about it?" 

"Sure." 

They sat quietly for a time, gazing out at the bay.  Jim kept a constant monitor on his companion, feeling unnerved by the student's eerie calm, starting a little when Scott finally spoke. 

"I got to see him before he died.  I drove up and went straight to the hospital.  His mother told the nurse that I was family.  I was scared to go in and see him like that, but I think I was more scared not to." 

Jim turned, silently watching Scott's face while he talked, the words underscored by the snapping sound of the younger man pulling on blade after blade of grass. 

"He looked bad... and I wanted somebody to tell me that it wasn't as bad as it looked, but I knew it was worse.  I couldn't stand there and watch him like that.  I left before my five minutes were even up.  He died the next morning." 

Scott hunched over, lowering his head, almost seeming to shrink right before Jim's eyes inside that big, black jacket, and Jim felt helpless in the face of grief and death.  He wondered, not for the first time that day, and certainly not for the first time in his life, how things could get so fucked up so quickly. 

A voice whispered from somewhere inside the cocoon of black denim, and Jim didn't know if Scott actually meant to be heard, but he adjusted his hearing to catch the somber words.  "I didn't say goodbye.  I didn't tell him that I loved him.  I didn't even touch him.  I didn't do anything that I should have in the five stupid minutes that I was given." 

"Scott, you can't beat yourself up about that.  You have to remember what you had." 

Scott's head slowly emerged; eyes bright with unshed tears and pain.  "Well, you know what Jim?  I can't.  I can't remember any of that.  All I can remember are the tubes, and the machines, and that hospital smell.  I remember talking to cops, answering their questions about my 'whereabouts on the night in question'.  I remember seeing news report after news report detailing what was done to him, and they all end the same way -- Ace is dead and no one knows why." 

Jim would have welcomed a spark of anger, but Scott's whole speech had been delivered in a dreary monotone.  And the only words that came to mind were meaningless platitudes. 

"Hey.  Let's get outta here.  I'm going to go get a room for the night, and then we can grab a bite to eat." 

"Im not hungry, and you don't have to stay overnight.  Really." 

"The funeral's tomorrow." 

"I'm not going." 

"Scott..." 

"Ace's father wasn't exactly thrilled with his son's sexual orientation, I don't think it'd be a good idea for me to go." 

"You said his mother got you into the room..." 

"Yeah, well _Mr._ Statler wasn't at the hospital." 

"It's a chance to say goodbye, Scott." 

"Yeah, well..." Scott repeated, his voice trailing off in a whisper. 

"Think about it.  I'm going.  You can go with me." 

Scott shrugged, and then went silent and still, except for fidgety fingers which once again pulled distractedly at blades of grass. 

Jim sat, focusing on the sensory imprint made by the younger man.  That melange of sight/sound/smell that he hadn't even realized that he had memorized. 

"I didn't believe it, you know." 

Eyes going to Scott's face, Jim waited, wondering if he had somehow missed part of the conversation.  When Scott didn't continue, he asked quietly, "Didn't believe what?" 

"That it was okay to be gay.  I mean, I didn't think it was _wrong_ , exactly, and being at the Center... and being with you meant a lot.  But I still didn't have... I mean, I kept thinking that if I was straight, then maybe I would have found somebody... some girl that would have wanted to be with me.  I know it's stupid.  Teenage drama isn't a gay thing.  But I was kind of anxious about coming up here." 

"I didn't know." 

"I know.  It wasn't like I was a wreck or anything.  Just a little lonely, like something was missing.  But freshman year wasn't so bad -- I concentrated on classes, mostly, and I made some friends, including Ace.  And you know what?  I didn't even notice him.  I mean, I liked him, thought he was cool, but I didn't _notice_ him.  Then one day I did.  And one day he noticed me back.  Just like that.  And I found that I believed it was okay after all." 

Jim remained silent, but he clamped a hand down on Scott's shoulder.  He wanted to point out to Scott that the student did indeed remember what he and Ace had shared, but decided that it was best to let him come to term with the memories on his own. 

"I don't know what I believe now, because I don't feel anything.  I dont want to go to the funeral, and I don't want to stay up here in school.  I don't know what I want to do anymore.  And I'm complaining about my _life_ , and Ace is _dead_." 

"It's not easy being the one who survives."  Jim looked out over the water, blinking against the shimmering effects from the sun, suddenly wishing desperately that Blair were there with him.  "I can't tell you what to do, Scott.  You have to make decisions that _you_ can live with.  But let me tell you a story..." 

* * *

Jim had slept in places a lot more uncomfortable than a king size bed in a decent hotel, but sleep wouldn't come.  The empty space next to him taunted him with the absence of his lover.  He sighed, rolling over, wondering why it never got easier.  Blair had been taking the Spring Break trips to see Naomi for years, and soon he would be gone on another expedition.  Six months in some place that Jim couldn't remember, knowing that he had blocked it out of his mind.  But he would deal with that when the time came, because six months alone was nothing when compared to spending the rest of his days with Blair in his life. 

Scott hadnt said a word while Jim told the story about his own first lover.  It was only the second time that Jim had ever talked about it, and he didn't give Scott all of the details, but he told him about the loss, and the pain, and the denial.  He told him about Blair and love and second chances.  When he was done, he had put his arm around the lanky frame once more, drawing the younger man into a hug.  After a moment, Scott pulled free, and stared straight across the water so intently, that Jim found himself looking, focusing on things in the distance that Scott wasn't even aware of.  He almost missed the strained words that drifted over to him. 

"You were lucky." 

Jim agreed.  He had indeed been lucky. 

But not in all things. 

After making sure that Scott ate a bit before taking him to his dorm, Jim had found himself driving through the city to the park where Jason Statler had been attacked.  He didn't think that he had consciously made the trip, though he wasn't surprised when it came into view.  The desire to find something that maybe had been overlooked was strong.  A clue, a lead, an answer.  It wouldn't bring back the life of a twenty-one year old man who had met a brutal end, but maybe it would give something to the survivors.  And it gave Jim a chance to _do_ something.  Falling back on what he knew well... cop things. 

But cop experience and Sentinel senses hadn't helped at a five-day-old crime scene that had also seen rain.  Concentrating in the dimming light, he had gone over the area, moving in widening circles, feeling that he must be missing _something_.  Despite knowing that unsolved crimes are a reality of police work, he couldn't let it go, but still in the end, he came up empty-handed. 

And back at the hotel, alone in a strange bed, sleep was a long time coming, with no answers and no Blair. 

* * *

The next day, Jim sat in his truck on a road that wound through a cemetery.  Not too far off, last words were being said by the family and friends of Jason Statler at a freshly dug gravesite.  Scott had continued to refuse to go to the funeral, but he had decided that he did want a chance to say goodbye. 

When the last person had gone, Scott slipped from the passenger seat and walked over to the grave.  Jim got out as well, but remained standing by the side of the vehicle, keeping watch.  The words, 'Hi, Ace' reached him and he adjusted his hearing to give Scott some privacy. 

Minutes later, the young man made his way back, resettling in the truck.  Jim was behind the wheel, about to start the engine, when he picked up the sharp, salty scent.  He turned, watching tear after tear fall, softly dropping onto Scott's jacket.  The kid wasn't even breathing hard, just leaking sorrow in a steady, quiet stream.  When Jim reached out, hand automatically going for the usual comforting shoulder squeeze, Scott doubled over, letting out a rush of air.  Jim's hand fell to Scott's back, patting him reassuringly, not saying 'There, there' out loud, but thinking it all the same. 

"It's not fair." 

"I know." 

"It hurts." 

"I know." 

"You were lucky." 

"I know." 

Jim could hear the sobs then, and he kept up his soothing touches, watching through the windshield as they lowered Jason's casket into the ground. 

* * *

It was a beautiful neighborhood, but as a cop and as a kid from a similar background, Jim wasn't fooled by the quiet, well-kept suburban area.  He knew firsthand that just as much malignancy lurked in those areas as in the inner cities.  People were people were people.  And in investigations, trails often pointed to something close to home.  Scott had said that Jason's father wasn't pleased about his son being gay, and while Jim wouldn't say that Robert Statler was directly responsible for Jason's death, anything was possible.  So, he was going to drop in at the family home to ask a few questions. 

After the funeral, Jim had gone to the police station to talk to the detectives in charge of Jason's case.  Although he was no longer a full time cop, Jim knew the Homicide captain, as well as some of the detectives in the squad.  He and Captain Jennings weren't friends exactly, but their paths had crossed more than once over the years.  And Captain Jennings still owed him one... or two. 

With little hassle, Jim was allowed access to the case reports on Jason Statler's murder including interviews and lab results.  It wasn't much.  Just an accumulation of facts that led nowhere.  No usable fingerprints, no footprints, no hairs or fibers that couldn't be explained, no semen.  The blood was all Jason's own.  A length of pipe had been left at the scene.  The weapon that had been used for both the beating and the rape.  Jason's car had been found a few blocks away.  All dead ends. 

Jim talked to the detectives in charge of the case, trying not to come across as a cop second-guessing another cop.  Truthfully, Detectives Davis and King welcomed Jim's participation.  It wouldn't be the first case where he had pulled off the magical feat of finding that elusive clue.  But the shared notes and hunches yielded just as little as the scant pieces of evidence.  Jim was at least satisfied that everyone seemed on the up and up about wanting to solve the mystery, bringing to justice the perpetrator of such a vicious crime.  It didn't seem that the investigation had suffered because of the victim's sexual orientation. 

It hadn't been determined whether the attack had been personal -- Jason targeted because he was gay, or just a random act of twisted violence.  Friends and acquaintances had been questioned about whether Ace would have been meeting someone that night, and no one believed that he would have been.  He was described as a bright kid, who liked to make people laugh.  Not really a loner, but someone who kept to his small group of friends.  Jim wanted to re-interview everyone, wishing that he could use his genetic advantage to catch someone lying or holding back, but wasn't sure if his unofficial capacity would carry him that far. 

Unofficial or not, the Seattle police arranged for him to go over Jason's car, which was still in police custody.  The only thing that it offered Jim was a vague impression of what he thought was Jason's scent.  He also got access to the apartment where Jason had lived.  An efficiency that might as well have been labeled ' College Kid Zone'.  Ripples of sadness flowed through Jim as he gazed at the untidy space.  A feeling of abandonment permeated the room -- unmade bed and unwashed laundry left waiting for someone who would never arrive.  And he also felt a trickle of regret, bearing witness to the end of the sort of free-spirited youth that he had never lived.  Despite the presence and influence of Blair Sandburg, being the product of his father's house and the military system meant he was still someone more comfortable with beds neatly made, and clothes that hung in the closet just so. 

A run-through of the apartment didn't turn up anything that the local cops had missed or forgotten to do.  Jim knew that they had even followed up on Jason's last phone call -- the redial button leading them to the pizza place down the street.  The investigation had showed that the pizza had been delivered around 12:30 on the day that Jason had died, and the box, complete with 3 leftover slices was still in the refrigerator.  The delivery boy, the last known person to see Jason alive, had been interviewed and released. 

Rousing himself from his thoughts, Jim made the turn into the driveway of the Statler home.  He wasn't sure what, if anything, he would find behind those doors, but he hoped for just a scrap of something to go on.  Slowly, he walked up the steps and rang the doorbell, listening to it reverberate in the inside of the house, and then the sound of footsteps crossing the foyer.  The door was opened by a young woman with sad eyes that stared out from a pretty face.  And Jim was suddenly sorry about invading the privacy of a grieving family, in his cop persona, with his cop questions. 

"Hi, my name is Jim.  I'm a... friend.  I just wanted to extend my condolences.  Are Mr. and Mrs. Statler at home?" 

"My mom isn't here, but my dad is in the back in his office.  What's your name again?" 

"Jim Ellison." 

The girl nodded, and closed the door. 

A short time later, more footsteps approached, and the door was yanked open by a man of average height, with a receding hairline and a scowl. 

"Yeah?" 

"My name is Ellison.  Jason and I had a mutual friend, and I --" 

" _Friend_ , huh?  The remark was accompanied by a snort of derisive laughter.  "Well, listen _friend_..." 

Jim knew what the man was thinking, as the disdainful gaze raked over him, taking in the earring that he had started wearing again a few years earlier, and the shadow of a mustache and goatee that he had been growing as a joking surprise for Blair's return.  And it hurt.  Not for him personally, but for Ace who had had to live with that contemptuous glare. 

Anger whipped through him and he had to restrain himself from slamming the man up against the wall, hands itching to wipe that disgusted look off of Robert Statler's face.  Instead, he reached into his pocket, removing his badge, pushing it close to the other man's face. 

"That's _Detective_ Ellison.  I'm with the Cascade Police Department, and I've been asked to help out with the investigation.  I have a few questions for you, so why don't you just let me in?" 

Reluctantly, Statler moved aside, allowing Jim to enter, then closed the door.  "I've already answered questions from the police." 

"But you haven't answered mine." 

"Look, I don't know anything about Jason or his _activities_.  He moved out when he was eighteen.  I have no idea who his friends are, or what he was up to." 

Jim didn't doubt him, and he bit back his caustic comment about asshole fathers who didn't deserve to have children. 

The slam of a car door was followed by the front door opening and then a woman stepped inside.  She was about Jim's age, her blond hair pulled back off of a face that showed signs of having cried recently.  Jim turned to her, as she stopped in the foyer.  She looked vaguely familiar, though Jim was sure he had only seen her from behind at the funeral the day before. 

A voice off to Jim's left was saying, "Melinda, this man has some questions about your son." 

Jim stepped forward, wondering at Mrs. Statler's odd expression, once again regretting the intrusion.  "I'm sorry, ma'am.  I'll be brief.  My name is --" 

"James Ellison." 

And for a full minute, they just stared. 

* * *

"Whoa.  She _knew_ you?" 

Jim jumped at the unexpected sound of Blair's voice.  He looked down into curious blue eyes, then looked away, facing the darkness outside once more.  His muscles ached, tight with tension and weary from standing in the same position for so long, but he couldn't shake the feeling that if he moved, he would simply run and let the night swallow him whole. 

"In a way.  It seems that Robert Statler wasn't Ace's real father." 

Blair felt his knees go weak, stray thoughts flying together to lock and form a crazy picture.  The only thing that kept him from falling was the familiar strength of Jim's hands catching him. 

"When Statler married Ace's mother, he adopted both of her children, giving them his name.  Ace was only seven.  His real father was Johnny Morris." 

Surprise and confusion made Blair's eyes go wide and his mouth gape open.  His breath left him in a rushing release, and he forced his hands to unclench, trying to relieve the tension of having braced himself for a blow that never came.  The thought that he would hear Jim tell him about the pain of losing a son that he had never known he'd had.  Which still left a question. 

"Jim..." 

Crossing his arms, holding them tight against his body, Jim recited a list in slow, even beats, starting with Morris and ending with Sarris.  Seven names said in a flat tone that was well suited to a roll call of the dead.  "Ace's father was John Alvin Morris." 

"Oh shit, Jim."  And Blair realized that he had let himself relax too soon, he hadn't been at all prepared for that revelation. 

"And I remembered why she seemed sort of familiar... a picture of a pretty blond that Johnny used to carry around... Mindy." 

"Oh, man.  Oh, man." 

"I stood there and listened to her tell me how much Johnny had admired and respected me, and how even though it hurt to finally know for sure that her husband was dead, she had seen the coverage, read the articles, and found comfort in the fact that _someone_ had made it back alive.  She'd lost her husband, and now her son, and she's telling me how glad she is that I'm living and breathing in her face.  All I could do was say how sorry I was about Ace -- I didn't explain about knowing Scott or being a cop -- didn't ask a single question.  I just got out of there, trying not to lose it on the way back to my truck." 

"Jim..." 

"I drove straight to the park.  I must have examined every blade of grass, every fucking leaf on every fucking tree....  I wanted to at least be able to give her some answers." 

"Jim, none of this is your fault.  Not what happened in Peru... not what happened to Ace.  You know that." 

"Okay, I'm not at fault.  I didn't kill them.  But those guys in Peru were _my_ men, so don't I have some responsibility?  Does the fact that I dug seven graves, and buried seven bodies mean that my job was done?"  Gradually getting louder, Jim went on.  "They were my men, and they had families... parents, wives, _children_ , and I had _obligations_.  A responsibility, Sandburg, to follow through." 

"Stop it.  You are the most responsible man I've ever known.  A _good_ man, Jim." 

In a voice edged with ice, Jim responded, "I walked out of that jungle and I let them go.  Went on with my life... living and everything."  Dropping to a ghostly whisper, he continued, "And now I'm having that dream.  About that place where the night is alive.  The first time was when I came back here from Seattle, the night before you got back.  That night there was just one voice, and I recognized it, even though I'd never heard it before.  Then, after that there were more voices, ones I knew very well, and the darkness was thicker and uglier, and there was no escape... and the only reason that I survived was because of a familiar sound, which guided me like a beacon.  Your heartbeat.  Even when you were sleeping down here, it worked.  Survival, but still no escape." 

 Blair couldn't deny the fear that he felt.  He was afraid of the things that Jim kept hidden, things that bubbled to the surface every few years, bursting free in painful waves.  He was afraid of the Jim that was standing there full of guilt over being alive, and, he knew, over having love in his life... _Blair_ in his life. 

"It's not a crime to survive, Jim.  Or to be happy." 

"Not even if innocent people are suffering?  So, it's not my fault, and I did the best I could.  But I didn't do _all_ that I could, because I let myself forget.  How many times do things have to blow up in my face?  You would think that Veronica Sarris would have been enough for me to get a clue.  That maybe there was something to be done.  Maybe if I had gotten to her long before she came to Cascade, the pain of losing her father wouldn't have twisted into a sick plan for revenge.  Maybe if I had gotten to Ace, I could have given him something to balance out the disappointment he got from Robert Statler.  Maybe I should have at least spent some time telling certain people what a great man their fathers were... or their husbands or sons...  So that one day I wouldn't stupidly put a grieving mother in the position of telling _me_ how much her dead husband admired me.  Me -- the man that didn't bring him home." 

Maybe.  Maybe not.  Blair didn't have an answer for that.  Maybe Jim could have made all the difference in the world; maybe it wouldn't have meant a damned thing.  But one thing was for sure -- what Jim _had_ been doing wasn't helping in any way. 

"So, what do you want to do, Jim?" 

"Right now, I'd settle for sleeping through the night."  Jim slumped forward, forehead resting on the glass door. 

Blair tugged gently on Jim's arm, leading him to the couch, sitting and positioning them so that Jim's head was resting on his chest. 

In a strong, fierce whisper, Blair said, "So, _do_ something about it.  Because this is no good, man.  All you're doing is repeating the same old process -- holding things in, closing yourself off, building a whole new room with no lights and a big sign on the door that reads 'Do _not_ open'.  Those families are out there.  Find them if you want to.  Talk to them.  Maybe it'll help them and help you.  But do _something_.  Because you're slipping away and I don't want to lose you." 

"I don't want one of those voices to be yours one night.  In pain, in the dark, because of me." 

"Then don't let me go." 

They sat there for a while, with Jim giving his senses free reign to enjoy being in Blair's presence again, the spicy scent, the loving fingers feathering through his hair, the comforting beat of his heart.  Before long they were both asleep. 

Blair drifted awake, opening his eyes slowly, seeing the glowing numbers on the VCR give the time as 12:00.  Midnight.  There was a cramp in his neck, and one of his arms had fallen asleep, so he tried to ease out from under Jim to stretch, but a strong hand gripped his thigh, stopping him. 

"Not yet." 

The heat was incredible, shooting straight up his leg to his balls, and he felt embarrassed that just that touch could affect him so much after everything that they had been through, but he felt oddly grateful as well. 

"Okay." 

Jim sat up, looking decidedly sleep-mussed -- hair flattened on one side from lying in Blair's lap, and sticking up in tufts on the other from Blair's constant fingering. 

"Tell me the truth.  Are we okay?  Have I totally messed things up with us?" 

Blair was quiet for a minute -- thinking of the bond that he shared with Jim.  Commitment on so many levels, emotions that were so strong, so many tokens given along the way.  Jim still wore the key around his neck that Blair had given him the night after they had made love for the first time.  On his right ring finger, Blair wore a platinum band; a ring Jim had given him the night he had asked Blair to marry him.  On their left ring fingers they each wore matching gold bands.  Blair placed his left hand over the back of Jim's left hand, entwining their fingers, ring to ring. 

"We made promises to each other out on that balcony five years ago, vows.  I meant it then, and I mean it now.  Did you?" 

"Yes." 

"So, we're okay." 

"But you're still mad, right?" 

"No.  I just want you to remember what it means.  I understand that your senses give you an extra way to feel connected to me, but it sucks that you used it the way you did, like it didn't matter that I was sleeping down here.  I'm not your pacifier, I'm your _partner_.  For life.  I'll gladly _give_ you comfort or support or whatever you need.  You just have to _let_ me." 

"Blair..." 

"Wait, I'm not finished.  Do you trust me?" 

"Yes." 

"I mean to be faithful to you." 

Jim flushed, heat rising to his face, memories of a jealous moment hanging between them.  "Blair, I didn't think..." 

"No, you were upset, and maybe you didn't _believe_ it, but you did _think_ it.  And if you ever hint, if you ever _think_ about hinting that something's going on between me and Alec again -- I'm kicking your ass." 

He couldn't help it, Jim laughed, and he was so shocked at how good it felt that he laughed some more.  Before Blair could get pissed, he raised their joined hands, and kissed the back of Blair's.  Tasted it, really -- using his lips, and teeth, and tongue, while his senses and his heart came alive with the wonder and joy of it. 

"Oh yeah, kid?  Think you can take me?" 

Blair smiled, his face lighting up as he started to accept that they really were okay, having come through another dark, scary place, back to each other. 

"Oh, I can take you, old man.  Come upstairs and let me show you." 

* * *

It was barely morning, and the sun was peeking in on the two men wrapped in each other's arms.  They were lying on top of the covers; still dressed in the clothes they had worn the night before.  Despite their intentions as they had climbed the stairs together for the first time in months, the evening hadn't turned out the way they had planned. 

At the top of the stairs, Blair had kicked off his shoes, and they had given in to impatient kisses, falling to the bed in a heated, aroused tangle.  In the middle of it, Blair had suddenly stopped, body shaking, breath coming in sharp hitches.  The force of his relief was so strong; his happiness at actually being with Jim again so powerful, it overwhelmed him.  And he shuddered over and over, as if wracked with sobs, though no tears came.  Jim held him, offering the strength and comfort of his arms, softly saying again and again that he loved him and he was sorry.  Eventually, they both fell asleep, and Jim never once let go. 

Jim woke first, but didn't move.  He listened to the sound of his lover's breathing, waiting for signs of awakening, and, a few minutes later, Blair stirred. 

"Morning." 

Blair looked up into his lover's face.  "Hey.  Long time no see." 

"Smartass." 

"Well, it has sort of been a long time, you know." 

"I know." 

Twisting slightly, Blair rubbed sensuously against Jim.  "A _long_ time." 

"Yeah, and yet you still managed to fall asleep on me last night." 

"That doesn't count.  There were extenuating circumstances." 

"And now?" 

"I need some caffeine." 

"It's been so long that you need caffeine to be with me now?" 

"No, I meant that I need some caffeine in general... like a morning cup of coffee." 

"Ah." 

"Ah?" 

"Ah... I'll make coffee, and we'll take it from there." 

Laying his head back down, Blair said, "In a minute." 

"So, you don't really need caffeine." 

"No, I just don't want you to move yet." 

"Okay." 

"We are, you know." 

"What?" 

"Okay." 

"I know.  But thanks for saying it." 

"And I'm not mad, but the ass-kicking thing still applies." 

"I'll consider myself warned." 

"I love you." 

"I love you, too.  So much.  And I'm so sorry." 

"Don't start.  You're just going to handle things differently from now on, right?" 

"Yeah, I'm not sure what I'm going to do, exactly, but I won't keep it from you." 

"How did you sleep last night?" 

Jim hesitated, then answered with a note of surprise.  "Fine." 

"Well, all right then.  I, on the other hand, would have slept much better if some kind soul had taken these jeans off of me." 

Less than a minute later, Jim had stripped the clothes from them both and they were lying close, tantalizingly skin to skin, giving each other occasional caresses and stray kisses. 

Distractedly, Blair asked, "So, why'd you get rid of the goatee before I got to see it?" 

"I wasn't in the mood for more surprises at the time." 

"Think you'll grow it back?" 

"Think you'll like it?" 

"I like the _idea_ of it, I need the actual visual to be sure." 

Jim didn't answer; instead he concentrated on the slide of Blair's hand along his jaw, the thumbnail scratching lightly at his bottom lip. 

"You know, our anniversary is in two weeks.  What do you want to do?" 

Jim just laughed softly. 

"What?" 

"We have so many 'anniversaries', I'm afraid one day I'm going to totally slip up." 

"It's not the anniversary day that matters.  It's the _day-to-day_.  Just don't forget me there, okay?  You can forget every anniversary for the rest of my life, you can make up your own -- I don't care.  But I need you to not forget that I'm _here_ , every day." 

"I know, babe.  Even after all this time, I'm still learning."  Jim drew his arms into a tighter circle, firmly encompassing his love.  "So, five years married.  What do _you_ want to do?" 

"I don't know.  Things have been so crazy lately, I haven't really thought about it.  But, you know, we never did take a trip to Hawaii.  I still owe you a native boy fantasy." 

"Funny you should mention that." 

Blair jumped up.  "Jim Ellison, if you pull out tickets to Hawaii, I swear..." 

"Sandburg..." 

"I swear...  I'll screw you within an inch of your life." 

"Well, Dr. Sandburg, it seems the challenge has been issued..." Jim rolled over and removed something from the nightstand drawer.  "...and met."  He held out his hands -- airline tickets in one, tube of lube in the other.  "Seems like the ball's in your court." 

Blair refrained from making any ball jokes.  In fact, his dick got so hard, so fast, there wasn't enough blood left for his brain to even come up with any ball jokes.  But something got through, because the full sacs hanging between Jim's legs were his first targets. 

He used lips, tongues, hands, his hair, _everything_ on them.  Anything to tease/please/stoke/stroke his lover's desire.  He even jacked off on them, when he felt the pressure inside himself reaching volcanic proportions.  Bringing himself off as he watched Jim spreading himself wide -- knees in the air, pucker exposed.  Going over the edge that one time, hoping that the next time he could last longer.  Rubbing his come into Jim's testicles, then licking them clean... before moving lower. 

Jim was a writhing, moaning mass of nerves by the time that Blair deemed him ready, really ready to receive him.  He had known Jim to get caught up over the years as they made love, but that morning it was as if he was just letting go completely.  Blair was afraid that maybe Jim had his senses up too high, he was _so_ responsive, and he cautioned him just in case. 

Still, when Blair started concentrating on the entrance to Jim's body, it was already grabbing at him, taking his fingers easily, and letting him know that fingers weren't really enough.  Acknowledging the truth in that, Blair slid inside his lover in one smooth motion, feeling bigger and harder than he ever had before.  By the time the end was near, he was wishing that he was really _huge_ so that he could feel every minute detail of the changes that were happening inside Jim's body as they went over the edge.  Jim shouted, 'I'm coming', but it was Blair who fell first.  His seemingly bigger, harder dick pumping out more copious quantities than ever before of seemingly thicker, creamier semen.  Jim followed, his hand doing the job for himself that his inner muscles had done for Blair. 

Jim was vibrating, and Blair had a moment where he was sure that he _knew_ how Jim felt with his heightened senses.  He could feel the pulses around his cock so strongly, and hear the breathing so loudly in his head, that he just knew he could do his own version of piggybacking and pick up Jim's heartbeat.  He could smell them, and felt sure that he could smell two distinct odors of arousal, as well as the sweet/spicy smell of them mingling.  And he was certain that if he leaned down and took Jim's mouth in a kiss, the taste would stand out sharply as the unique flavor of 'Jim' to be imprinted in his mind, forever.  When he opened his eyes to look at Jim's face in hopes that he could _see_ more, too, the spell was broken, and the moment was gone.  Easing out, he lay next to his lover, lazy smile in place.  The look of sated pleasure on Jim's face was enough. 

Sentinel/Guide, partners, friends, lovers, all that and more.  Connected.  Again. 

* * *

End Troubled Destiny.

 


End file.
